Page 40 of He Who Sleeps

Chapter 16

Petra lay in the largebed Goblin had left her in, smiling to herself. Jack. Of all people. Her bendy Jack was Goblin and boy did he give her every reason to want to see him again, even if he wasn’t her Goblin. She felt good, sore, but it wasn’t close to what she could be, or should be feeling. The tea, the magic of the night...it was possible their god watched out for her, too, as it was in His best interest.

She turned over to see her fifteen minutes were almost up and sighed, both sad to leave the bed, but excited to see Plague. Her most mysterious of her seven. Tonight, hopefully, things would change. She padded to the bathroom and checked her back, which was healing well and quickly, and the cut on her sternum, which was also not red or inflamed anymore. She grabbed the black robe that had been waiting there for her, padded out into the house, down the hall and then up a set of stairs, to the space she considered solely Plague’s.

What was once an aviary, or should have been, was void of anything but scorch marks, its high dome with strategic windows open, both to feed and control her Plague’s favorite thing: fire. The ground was warm and she padded into the space proper. “Plague?” she called, wondering which door he would come through.

"I'm here." He appeared from out of the shadows, where he had been kneeling down so she hadn't seen him. He struck a match and tossed it to the ground and the narrow channel that circled the room flared to light. At some stage it must have been for cleaning the run-off from the birds, but now it made a handy circle of fire. She'd smelled the fire gel when she'd walked in but hadn't pinpointed it to anything specific. The effect was spectacular.

Her smile was large as she turned around, stepping on the stones ringed by the fire. Gods, his obsession with fire was devotional, and he understood it in a way few did. He made it beautiful; he made her see it as beautiful. Her eyes met his mask and she bowed to him, softly. “What is your pleasure, my Plague?”

"To paint you. To set you aflame. To make you burn for me in every way." Even with the modulator, his voice sounded raw. "Lie on the table."

She nodded and slipped up to the stone table, lying back. His reverence was infectious. With Plague, she always felt so close to the dark divine he worshiped.

Approaching, he pulled open the belt of her robe with slow, deliberate movements, letting it fall apart and slither down the sides of her body, until she was lying in a pool of silk midnight. She knew it would be a natural fiber and nothing synthetic that might catch fire and stick to her. He had command of all things in this room and nothing would hurt her. Except him. When she had enough skin on display for his satisfaction, he prepared his tools—a small bowl of liquid that she'd guessed over the years was a high-percentage proof alcohol, cotton swabs, a candle and tapers. "Are you ready?" he asked her.

“Yes, Plague,” she said softly, her body waking under his scrutiny. The mask held no visible openings, unlike the others, and in a way it was always kinda hotter to her, given the circumstances.

"Good." With a pair of surgical clips he dabbed a piece of cotton wool in the liquid and streaked it across her skin in a twisting, swirly pattern. It felt cold, the icy kiss of winter's first snowflake, but then he held a lit taper just millimeters from her skin and the fire raced along the pattern he'd drawn, a quick burn that raced across the design, tingling and stinging that evaporated in mere seconds.

"So fucking pretty," he murmured. Again, he dipped the cotton and then drew it across her, lighting it and gazing at the flames as they raced across her belly. The next time, he drew rings around her nipples.

“Ah...Plague...” she moaned, the roll of the flames across her skin, the tingle as they burned out... She watched as the flames ringed her nipples and bit her lip as they tightened. She was a kinky little thing, and it was all thanks to the seven. She loved each of the things they loved, but Plague’s fire was the most seductive of all of it.

He did it again, mesmerized, before drawing broad swaths of liquid across her until it felt, and looked, as though she were completely aflame. Off to one side, a red light blinking in the darkness showed the camera that was taking photographs of every moment of this and she ached to know what she looked like, laid out this way.

A burning offering to a dark god, on an altar built by a madman. He swirled and burned her belly and her legs, only then returning to the mound above her womanhood, where he drew more slowly and deliberately.

She shook softly, adrenaline coursing through her. It was from the act, not fear or worry. Plague wouldn’t burn her, not when she loved what he did to her. The reverence in his motions, careful and precise... She could feel how wet she was getting from his ministrations, and he hadn’t even touched her.

He took his time playing with the fire, streaking her here and there, sometimes just holding a burning swab close enough to her skin to give her a rush of adrenaline and a sting of pain before it was gone and he was setting fire to other things. When the bowl was empty, he blew out the candle and dragged her roughly across the stone table toward him, his strong hands big enough to fully encircle her ankles.

The moan that left her lips was guttural, more turned on than she should be, seeing as the man was setting her body on fire. “Fuck, Plague...”

"Yeah," he agreed, parting his robes to free his cock, which had a beautiful curve that she knew was going to hit her in all the right places. "Watch me while I fuck you," he commanded.

She sobbed and bit her lip, nodding as she kept her eyes on his body, how he pulled her farther so she was all but hanging off the edge, his perfect cock lined up with her own body this way. “Fuck, you are beautiful, Plague.”

He shoved into her with one hard slide, the channel already slick from her wetness and his brothers' cum. The rhythm he set was punishing, but he still paused to pour the cooling wax from the candle across her belly in splatters of pearly white when he judged it wasn't still too hot.

“Oh... Oh...” Her body arched into the soft wax, and she watched it roll down her body, along the swell of her breast, brushing her nipple. “Plague!” She writhed as the orgasm shuddered through her, deep, reaching and perfect. “Plague...”

"That's it," he crooned, his modulated voice echoing eerily in the chamber. "Come for me."

“So, so good... More... Please, Plague...more...”

"So demanding," he teased, punctuating each syllable with a sharp thrust of his cock.

“I...fuck...I did say please.” She closed her eyes as another wave of pleasure hit her. “So fucking good, Plague. I can feel you everywhere.”

"Good." He picked up the pace, his skin smacking into hers with sharp cracks that filled the still air, until he too became undone, losing his rhythm as he filled her, with a soft growl of satisfaction.

“Oh god... Yes... Plague!” Her body clamped down on his, and stars burst in her vision, his perfect cock sending her into the stratosphere. Panting, she floated and then drifted down, her eyes open, and watching him watching where they were joined, her lover panting and straining.

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